There's No Place Like Home III
by Amelia Bianca Black
Summary: Cal's getting married, so Woody and Jordan are off to Kewaunee. Meanwhile, Lily and Bug are questioning their relationship. And, of course, there is always a lot of work to be done in the morgue... R&R, please!
1. A Manic Thursday

**I do not own "Crossing Jordan."**

* * *

**Author's Note:** This is set somewhere between "D.O.A." and "Crash." I know the chapter is longish. Please let me know if you think it's outrageously long. And, of course, read and review, please! :)

P.S. There are two episodes in season 3 in which Jordan mentions her contact lenses. I liked the idea because I wear them, too. :)

* * *

The third time she reached for it, Jordan actually managed to hit the snooze button on her cell phone. It was 7.30 am, an hour and almost a half since she had gotten home. It had been a hard couple of days; the whole gang had been working overtime. They hadn't had a decent meal or a good night sleep for almost a week. But, in the end, they managed to nail the perp and that was all that mattered to them.

Absent-mindedly, Jordan rubbed her eyes. They felt unusually dry. "Oh, no, not again!" she cursed under her breath, squinting at the sunshine which filled her living room. She had fallen asleep with her contacts. For like the fifteenth time in three days. Sighing resignedly, she padded to the bathroom, where she hoped to find some cotton pads and 3-percent solution of acidi borici. She sighed again as she pressed a pad against her eyelid. She knew that, being a doctor, she should know better than using this possibly carcinogenic acid, especially without taking the contacts out. However, this was her only weapon for a quick relief. "And if I took these bloody things out, I wouldn't be able to put them on again for like two days," she reasoned.

Still with the cotton pad against her eye, she headed for the kitchen. She needed her caffeine fix really bad. The day hadn't been promising till then, but a nice warm caffeinated beverage might lighten things up. Opening the cupboard, she cursed once again. All she had were some free samples of mokate. 'No wonder I'd dozed off,' she thought to herself as it dawned on her that she had made herself one a couple of hours ago, just before laying down in front of the TV. It was part of the scheme to keep her awake because she knew she wouldn't be able to get up once she had visited the land of dreams after having been deprived of sleep for five days.

"That one really worked," she said out loud, feeling cranky. "Oh boy, is this going to be a long day." Deciding she didn't care if she were half an hour late, she was going to head for a long, hot shower. She didn't head for it, though, because her landline rang, making her grit her teeth.

'Can this day get any worse?' For a moment, she relished the thought of simply going to the bathroom, disregarding the annoying sounds her phone was making. "It can't be anything important or they would call me on my cell," she was trying to find an excuse. But as her answering machine was broken, she just picked up the receiver, managing to bark out a "hello." She recognized the voice on the other side immediately although she hadn't heard it for quite a while. And she had a feeling that the day was going to be long indeed.

* * *

"This is Hoyt," he said wearily. Woody was sitting in his office trying to do some paperwork. He reckoned there was no point in his going home as he was due at 8 o'clock. Sharp. It was 7 now and he was considering the option of putting some toothpicks in his eyes (like the tom-cat in that cartoon did) in all seriousness. However, he stiffened in his chair, all the tiredness disappearing in an instant, when he had heard who was on the other side.

"Hi, Woods, it's been a while, huh?" Cal sounded almost apologetic.

"Yes, it has." The regret in the voice of his older brother was obvious, almost tangible.

Before Woody managed to say anything else, Cal spoke again, in a fast, falsely jovial manner, apprehension audible in his tone, "So, when were you going to visit? How 'bout this weekend?" He paused for a microsecond. "I'm getting married."

Woody almost fell from his chair.

* * *

Bug opened his eyes just in time to turn off his alarm before it even started ringing. It happened all the time now that Lily and Madeleine were living with him. He found it quite interesting. No matter how tired he was, his subconsciousness would always send the signals just in time. Just in time for him not to wake up Maddie or Lily by letting his clock make those awfully loud and unpleasant sounds.

Although he had opened his eyes, it didn't mean he was wide awake. He still felt drowsy. After all, he had slept for only two and a half hours even though he had left the morgue first, at 2 am. Jordan and Nigel had practically kicked him out.

Nigel said, "We don't need you; you've done everything you could on this case. Now I'll do my magic if you excuse me." And with that, he stormed off to Trace.

Bug wondered whether his friend really wanted him to go home. He sometimes had the impression that the Brit felt left out from his life now that he had a family. Sure he still loved Nige and all the others from the morgue, but Lily and their daughter were the most important persons at this point of his life. Bug just hoped Nigel would understand it soon.

Jordan, on the other hand, insisted that he go home. "After all, Bug, you're the only one here who's got a family. You should go and spend some time with them."

"At 2 am, Jordan?" he retorted.

She gave him one of those caught-red-handed Jordan smiles. "Then you should go and get some rest. Lily and Maddie need you more then we do right now. And it's not a great thing to have a father who is absent all the time."

"Or a partner," she quickly added.

Bug looked at her, smiling warmly. "I'll go home, Jordan." He nodded. "Just promise me you'll go soon, too. You and Nigel need to rest, too."

Although he didn't add "You look like hell." Jordan knew from the genuine concern in his eyes, as well as from the glance to a mirror she'd made about five hours before, that she indeed looked dreadful.

* * *

"You look like hell," Garret said matter-of-factly looking at Jordan, who was sitting at the other side of his table, sipping her triple espresso. "You're taking a couple of days off. Now."

"No, I'm not," she protested, trying to fake a smile. "Now that the Smith-Raleigh case is closed, I feel really good. Yeah, sure, it's been tiring, but I'll be fine as soon as I finish my coffee."

The truth was that she both looked and felt like something that the cat had dragged in, but the last thing she needed was a couple of days off. Not now. Not after the conversations she had with Cal and Woody. For Cal was the person that called her earlier. He told her he was getting married and wanted her to come to his and Elizabeth's wedding. Actually, he wanted her to come for the weekend.

"There are going to be wedding rehearsals or something like that. Besides, who could resist a three-day sightseeing of Kewaunee." She heard a smirk in his voice.

He kept on persuading her, but Jordan was firm. She couldn't handle three days with Woody. Not now.

"Look, Cal, I really have to go. I'm already late," she finally said. And she wasn't lying. She had just enough time to take a quick shower if she wanted to be at the morgue by 10 o'clock, which meant she'll be at least an hour late. "See ya on Sunday then."

"I know you'll change your mind, so I'll keep your room at the hotel and everything. As I said, Lizzie really wants to meet you," Cal replied. "Now go and do that slicing and dicing thing of yours. And be diligent 'cause otherwise your boss won't give you the whole weekend off."

Woody called ten minutes later.

"So, I guess you heard about Knucklehead's newest hare-brained scheme he is letting himself into."

"C'mon, Woody, your baby brother has grown up. And I know you're happy for him."She could feel it in his voice.

"Yeah, I guess. He'll be somebody else's responsibility now." He paused for a few moments. "So, you going?"

Jordan could swear she heard anxiety in that question. But she couldn't decide why he was anxious. Was it because he wanted her to go? Or because he didn't? "Yeah, I am. But not till Sunday. I have a lot of work to do, Garret doesn't… can't give me some time off," she lied, skipping the fact that she was still in her apartment.

"Well, that's too bad." Woody tried to sound casual, but she knew he was disappointed. But why? "See ya on Sunday, then," he concluded.

She sighed a deep sigh of relief. As much as she wanted to spend some time with him, their situation was awkward. She rolled her eyes at the thought. When hadn't it been? The fact was that since Lu and everything they had been acting like friends. They were friends. But the tension between them was palpable sometimes. She knew he could feel it, too; but he acted like nothing strange, nothing sensual, was happening. He was acting like a brother. They were friends and co-workers. That was it. She had accepted the game. For, as much as she had matured, she wouldn't offer him her heart on the plate again. Actually, she wasn't sure whether she would offer him her heart again in any way. Whenever they had a chance to move on to the next level, one of them blew it. They just weren't meant to be.

'We're far better off as friends.' She finally reached a conclusion while putting her mauve blouse on. 'And I'm not screwing it up by sleeping with him again. So, I'm not going to Wisconsin till Sunday morning,' she concluded as she slammed the door of her apartment behind her.

* * *

And now there she was - in Garret's office, practically begging him not to give her some free time. For she knew she'd be on the first plane to Kewaunee ('Is there an airport there?' she thought to herself.) if he did so. She had been feeling lonely for quite a while. She hated the fact she was coming home to an empty apartment every night. It had been ages since she last dated. Her illness reminded her how precious life was, but by that time she had already been so estranged that she couldn't find her way out, her way to people. Surely, she had her morgue family. They all had their lives outside the morgue, however. She didn't. Not for a while. It would be so easy: going to Kewaunee with Woody, rekindling the old flame, feeling loved for a while…

'_For a while_, those are the key words,' she thought. 'The tables have turned. _He_'d chew _me_ up and spit _me_ out.' She smiled humorlessly, remembering the words she had told Nigel all those years ago. Ages ago, or so it seemed. 'How ironic. But I won't let it happen.' Unconsciously, she shook her head.

"I see you are really ready for those two autopsies you are scheduled for today." The irony in Garret's voice was not subtle at all. "Go home, Jordan, and get some rest. You didn't hear a word of what I was just saying. You're no good to anyone here if you can't focus. And you know that."

She opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off by a loud knock on the door. It was a knock on the doorframe really, Jordan realized, terrified by the following facts:

a. the person who knocked was Woody;

b. the door was ajar all the time;

c. as a cop, Woody had a penchant for eavesdropping;

d. from all that, chances of Woody hearing what Garret just said were pretty high.

She cursed silently, managing to utter a "hey."

"Good morning, Doctor M. I was just dropping by to see if I'd covered everything about the Smith-Raleigh case 'cause I'm taking a couple of days off," Woody addressed Garret. "My brother's getting married," he added.

Garret glanced at Jordan knowingly. Amusement was obvious in his look, too. By that time she was already at the door murmuring, "I'll be in Autopsy 1."

"You just take some photos. Wait for Bug, he answered the call yesterday," Garret said, not looking up from the manila folder Woody had handed to him.

Jordan was furious. She knew what that meant. And she was NOT taking the bloody weekend off. "Yes, sir," she retorted before storming off to Autopsy 1, anger obvious in her voice.

Garret smiled to himself. 'It was about time you got a life, Jordan.'

"It seems that everybody is late today. Nigel still hasn't got back from the airport. Bug hasn't showed up yet, either. And he wasn't late for the last six years." He sighed flipping the pages of the folder.

* * *

Bug jerked awake. He had fallen asleep sitting on his couch as he wasncontemplating last night. He quickly looked at his watch. It was already 10 o'clock.

'But how is this possible?' he thought to himself. 'How come Lily isn't up yet? And Maddie? She fell asleep at 5; how come she isn't awake?'

He jumped off the couch, going to the bedroom to check up on Lily and the little girl. Relief flooded him when he saw Lily still in bed, rocking their baby (for he was always thinking of Maddie as his, not Jeffrey's, daughter).

"Oh, I thought you were already gone." She smiled at him.

"I should have been in the morgue an hour ago." He kissed her lightly on the cheek before proceeding to the closet to find some clean clothes. "I overslept," he added heading towards the door. "Do you need anything?"

"No, you just hurry up. We'll be fine," she replied quickly. The truth was she needed to talk to him. And she was sure he felt the same way. Their life together was a bit… awkward. He acted liked a father to her daughter and like a brother to her. Lily knew that she was responsible for that. When she moved in, she asked for some space. For some time. That's why Bug was sleeping on the couch. And she wanted him a bit closer now. 'But does he want the same?' she had asked herself that question a million times. 'After all, I'm a baby whale with stretch marks and a lousy haircut.'

* * *

'After all, chicks are always late,' Nigel thought, consoling himself. He was late. Five minutes only, but still. He had a feeling Kate would call a taxi and then the whole gesture would be ruined and he'd get another opportunity to get closer to her in like a zillion years. He avoided trying to answer the question why it bothered him at all. And why the hell he offered her a ride to the airport in the first place. Sure, he still felt a bit guilty about her car. But was it all? He didn't really want to go there right now. He'd think about that later. Or never. Maybe while she was in New York, where she was going to mate Binkey to an excellent Dandie Dinmont terrier bitch. Naturally, Kate had already been waiting for him when he parked the rented audi in front of her building. She was holding Binkey's transporter.

"I was just going to call a cab," she said as soon as he got off the vehicle.

"Good morning to you too, luv." He grinned while he was putting her suitcase into the trunk. "I admit I may be a little late, but at least I came in style," he added pointing at the shiny car.

Kate only gave both Nigel and the audi a smirk.

"And who do we have here," said Nigel taking the transporter so that Kate could get into the car comfortably. "How are you, li'l fella?" The Dandie Dinmont terrier replied by barking furiously at him, trying to get at least one of his fingers through the narrow openings of the transporter.

"Hush, Binkey!" Kate was sharp, but the furball wouldn't stop. Nige was quick in handing the transporter to her.

"You know," she said as he was starting the car, "they say dogs can feel what type of a person you are. Are you a reliable, good…"

Pulling off the curb, Nigel cut her off, "You know, they also say something like 'Like dog, like owner.'"

* * *

After his talk with Dr. Macy, Woody proceeded to Autopsy 1, where Jordan was still taking photos of John Doe.

"Why didn't you tell me, Jordan?" His voice was harsh.

"Tell you what?" she asked innocently, grateful that she didn't have to look at him.

"That you didn't want to go to Kewaunee with me," he retorted curtly.

"It's not true, Woody. I'd like to…" she managed to say before he cut her off.

"Oh, just spare me, Jordan. I heard Dr. M." He sounded both annoyed and hurt. He approached her, wanting her to look at him. "Would you just put that camera down for a freaking second?"

She obeyed.

"I thought we were friends," he continued, giving her that puppy-dog look of his.

She felt her heart flutter just a bit. 'Just don't look at me like that, please,' she prayed silently. Out loud, she said, "Yes, we are."

"It's only three days, Jordan. I won't bite you. In fact, you don't have to spend time with me at all," he pleaded. "Knucklehead will be so glad if you come."

Her body language gave her away. He knew she was about to give in.

"So, we going tomorrow?" he gently prodded.

She nodded, managing to smile weakly. "Cheese farms, here we come!"

* * *

Once again: **please, R&R**!! xD Thanks!


	2. Friday, I'm In Love

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Crossing Jordan_.

I do not own anything related to the songs _Everytime We Touch_ performed by Maggie Reilly, _I'll Stand By You_ by _The Pretenders_ or any other song that may be mentioned here.

No copyright infringement is intended.

P.S. If you'd like to listen to these songs, visit:

**youtube(dot)com/watch?vdTdDi6ophIM - **_**Everytime We Touch**_

**youtube(dot)com/watch?vJ5pECaW-VMI - **_**I'll Stand By You**_

**Note:** In _Sunset Division_, Annie mentions a guy named Carl, but she doesn't actually say she's married to him or something.

Thanks to **Casey (BugFan4Ever)**, **rosemarie314** and **lbcjfan** for reviewing! I hope my long replies to your reviews didn't put you off. :))

Feel free to leave a review, guys, I'll survive it. :)

P.S. Thanks to **wjfan117**, too. I guess she (or he) liked it too.

* * *

There wasn't an airport in Kewaunee after all. But there was one in Green Bay, some twenty five minutes away. That was where Cal was waiting for them. They both spotted him in an instant as he was the tallest ('And the best looking, that's for sure,' Jordan added to herself.) guy around. The brothers were feeling strange, seeing each other after almost two years. Cal made an attempt to smile, but one could see that he hadn't forgotten the unpleasant circumstances that had led to their drifting apart and that he regretted them. Jordan, who wasn't without her own regrets as far as losing touch with a family member was concerned, and who loved them both, wanted to make it easier for them.

She hurried to Cal, hugging him tightly.

"I'm so glad to see you," she whispered.

"Right back etcha," he replied and then, taking both of her hands into his and stepping back to see her better, added, a grin plastered all over his face, "Blonde is your color, Jordan."

"Heel, boy, just heel." Woody smiled broadly. He was really glad to see his baby brother.

Jordan stepped aside, letting them greet each other properly. She couldn't stop herself from chuckling when she got the replay of the scene from the morgue: Cal again used the fact he was an inch taller and equally well-built as his brother, and lifted him jokingly. She couldn't help being smitten by nostalgia, either. Decisive not to let thoughts like that come even close to her this weekend, she quickly turned to Cal:

"So, Elizabeth, huh?" she asked - if that could be called a question, that is.

Cal was much more articulate. "She's perfect," he started enthusiastically, sounding much more mature than when Jordan last saw him, "loving, funny, smart, beautiful, all I could ask for, more that I've ever dared to ask for…"

* * *

Nigel couldn't believe it. He, the lab rat, the man who practically lived in the morgue, was late. And not just late. More than an hour late. Two days in a row. Yesterday it really hadn't been his fault – traffic had been a bitch. He'd learned that it was so much easier to come on time if you rode your old motorbike than if you crawled through the streets of Boston in that big shiny rented car. Today he simply overslept, last week taking its toll. He was only hoping he'd still be able to sneak into Trace unnoticed.

"Nigel!" Garret's voice drowned all his hopes.

"Um, good morning, Dr. M." He grinned from ear to ear. "I was just going to Trace."

"Go to Autopsy 1; Bug needs you there," his boss retorted. "And, Nigel, you usually don't grin when you're late. You try to look like you're sorry, and offer an apology." Garret nodded slightly, giving him one of his half-smiles, those which included his mouth but not his eyes. Before Nigel could say anything in reply, he was already half way down to his office. Pausing for a moment, unsure of what to do, the criminologist headed towards Autopsy 1.

* * *

When Nigel entered, Bug was just putting his scrubs on. The Brit's grin returned immediately. "Well, well, well, it seems I'm not the only one who's late." He gave his friend a full display of his whity white teeth. "What happened, Buggles? You're never late. Except yesterday, that is."

Making the Y incision on another John Doe, Bug replied crankily, "Don't call me Buggles." And added, "I overslept. Maddie had colics again last night. I went to bed at five thirty..."

"Oh, I see." was all that Nigel said, suddenly not feeling conversational any longer. He didn't even ask if the baby girl was okay now or how Lily was doing.

They worked quietly for some time until Bug handed his friend the box with the stomach contents. "Would you analyze this for me?" he asked politely.

"Sure," Nigel nodded shortly and left.

"I really have to talk to him," Bug sighed wearily.

* * *

Cal pulled up in front of a small hotel, an inn actually, but that was the best Kewaunee had to offer.

"Kewaunee's finest," he joked, mainly addressing Jordan, who was sitting beside him.

"It's charming." Jordan was sincere. The little building looked cozy and warm and well taken care of.

Both men gave her a look.

"What?" She shrugged. "It is!"

Woody opened his mouth, but Cal was faster. "Um, I think I've forgotten to tell you this..."

"I should have known." Woody was getting annoyed, "There's always a catch with you. What is it this time? There's-"

"It's no big deal, really," Cal resumed his speech. "It's just that there's no accommodation for all the people who have come to that thing in Algoma, so a bunch of them is staying here. And some Lizzie's cousins, too-"

"You're not telling me we're gonna sleep in the street, are you? 'Cause if you are –" Woody interrupted him again just to be cut off himself.

"No, of course not. You'll just have to share a double room," Cal finally managed to finish.

In a heartbeat, the memories from the Lucy Carver Inn., which were now more than a year far, flooded both Jordan and Woody. They didn't think about everything ugly that followed their little affair. The only thoughts that came were the ones of that very night, of the heat of his fingertips against her bare skin, of the ends of her, then almost black, curls brushing against his chest, electrifying him, of their entangled bodies trying desperately to quench the thirst of almost five long years of waiting.

"No big deal," they said in unison.

Jordan turned to the window to hide her schoolgirl smile. She felt so stupid and yet content.

Feeling he'd just made a huge mistake and trying to get the image of Jordan lying in his arms in the little snowbound inn out of his head, Woody quickly get out of the car. As Jordan reached for the lock, Cal leaned towards her and whispered teasingly, "So, you're having sex with my brother now?" and then added more seriously, "I should've known the other day when I asked him how you were."

The question was written all over her face.

"Still off limits."

Jordan couldn't stop another schoolgirl smile from escaping her lips.

* * *

Detective Elliot Chandler entered Autopsy One, and started unceremoniously, "Thanks for your effort, guys. Just send me the report when you finish it, so that I can close the case."

"You've already caught your guy? Man, you're fast." Nigel, who was typing something frantically, was incredulous.

"It's a girl, actually," Chandler corrected him. "One Maria Jones. And this," he said, pointing at the body which Bug was just sewing up, "is one Dave Kane. He was her boyfriend. They had a quarrel on Wednesday night; she shot him, then panicked and dumped his body in that alley. This morning she came to her senses, called her lawyer and came to the precinct. I have her full confession." He smiled. "That's it." Turning to leave, he added, "Have a wonderful day, guys."

But he never actually left because Bug's voice stopped him. "You may not want to leave yet," the ME said morosely. "This guy does have a bullet wound, but it's superficial. It didn't kill him."

Both Chandler and Nigel were quiet for a second. Then Nige talked. "What did?"

"The cause of death is heart failure," Bug replied.

"But he was only twenty seven," Chandler insisted.

"And perfectly healthy." The entomologist nodded.

For a few moments everybody was silent as Nigel and Elliot were digesting what had just been said. Then it was Nigel's turn to speak. "We should get his tox screen shortly."

* * *

Jordan was feeling uncomfortable. She hated being stared at. And everybody in Cal's living room was, more or less obviously, looking at her. And it wasn't that she and Woody had just arrived. 'We have been here for freaking twenty minutes,' she thought, her temper starting to boil. The fact that Woody wasn't helpful at all only added to it. She glared at him angrily as he was chatting with Ray, Annie's (as in Annie Cody, now Gillespie, his ex-fiancée) husband and Sheriff, at the other end of the room. Meanwhile, she was stuck with Mary Alice (as in Mary Alice McKenzie, his prom date who stood him up, as well as Elizabeth's cousin), who was babbling about LA. It turned out she had been living there for years, trying to become an actress. Jordan was sorry she'd ever mentioned California. Actually, Jordan was beginning to be sorry she was ever born. For Alice, as she preferred being called, wasn't only an actress wannabe; she was a jack-of-all-trades, or so it seemed. Of one thing Jordan was sure, however. 'She's the biggest pain in the ass I've ever met,' she decided, her eyes wondering through the room.

Two older couples were playing cards and a bunch of teenagers was discussing the latest news from music industry. Cal and his lovely Lizzie were once again going over all the details with their wedding planner – Annie, who was six months pregnant. As the two women were discussing floral arrangements for the tables, the groom was sipping his beer, not looking even mildly interested. His eyes met Jordan's and she realized he was clearly amused by her inability to escape Alice's chit-chatting. Jordan only flashed him a wicked grin as she was contemplating the efficiency of all kinds of excuses, not wanting to be rude.

"You didn't answer me, Jo." The sentence was inevitably followed by one of the woman's annoying high-pitched chuckles.

Jordan was snapped back to reality. "Sorry?"

"When is yours?" Mary Alice repeated.

"When is my what?" Jordan was clueless.

The other woman chuckled again. "Well, not only yours, silly. When is yours and Woodrow's wedding?"

Jordan's eyes opened wide in amazement. Why would Mary Alice think that she and Woody…

"My and… Um… well, you see… um, I really… I mean, we're not…" She was rendered speechless.

"…really sure yet if we want it to be next spring or autumn" She heard Woody's voice and felt his hand on her shoulder. "Isn't that right, honey?"

Her numbness from the shock beginning to wear off, Jordan was getting angry. Turning around to look at Woody, she spotted the suppressed laughter in his blue eyes. She flashed him one of her most sugary smiles as she said in an equally sugary voice, "Sure thing. Can I just talk to you for a minute, sweetie?"

When they reached the door, Woody turned round and beckoned Cal, whose amusement seemed to have faded out.

* * *

"What was that?" demanded Jordan in a pretty quiet, but a bit angry voice.

"I was just saving your honor, Jordan." He was on the verge of laughter. "You know, your good name, your reputation," he continued.

"What are you babbling about?" She was getting more and more worked up. She couldn't stand people who did things behind her back.

"C'mon, Jordan, this is Kewaunee." Woody made himself be a little more serious. "One of the Hoyt brothers is back in town, and is sharing his room with a hot girl. Everybody knows that by now." He paused a little to see if she was getting it. "I know that you, who have never lived in a place which has less than a couple of million citizens, can't really grasp it and that you don't care, but here it's still important. So, what would you rather be: my fiancée or my lover?" He leered at her jokingly.

She frowned a little, but didn't manage to say anything because Cal appeared, his hands in the air, defensively. "I didn't have anything to do with it," he said. "I just didn't correct them when they assumed 'Jo' was your wife-to-be."

"If she or anybody else calls me Jo just one more time, I swear I'll…" Jordan started, but Woody and Cal never found out just what she'd do to them because they heard Liz's cheerful voice coming through the window.

"Come on, folks. People are getting hungry in here."

"Coming!" Cal replied and headed towards the house first.

Jordan and Woody followed him.

"Oh, and it was a lot of fun to do, Jo," he snickered.

She punched him in the arm lightly. "I guess we'll just have to go through with it," she said flashing him a little lopsided smile. She wasn't really angry any more, if she ever was.

As an answer, he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her a bit closer.

"I wouldn't push my luck, Farm Boy." was her reply, but she wasn't really complaining. He knew that and his heart jumped a little on hearing that half-mock old nickname only she was entitled to use.

"By the way, where's the farm?" she asked as they entered the house.

* * *

"We're missing something." Bug was annoyed. Nigel had just told him that Kane's tox screen came out clean.

"I had a confession." Chandler was exasperated. "Not that I want an innocent person to go to jail," he quickly added.

"Well, we may try to test him for uncommon toxins," Nige suggested, and Bug agreed.

"But we may as well go home 'cause we won't get the results any time soon," the criminologist resumed. "The lab is full. I'll ask Sidney and Peter to keep an eye on our samples during their shifts."

The other two men just nodded. They all were exhausted.

* * *

"Where do you think you're going?" Cal asked Woody and Jordan, who were preparing to leave. Everybody else had already gone.

"I was gonna take Jordan for a walk to show her the lake and everything," his brother replied.

"Oh, but you'll help us with the song, won't you?" Liz reminded them of a reckless promise they'd made.

"Sure we will," Jordan replied reassuringly. To tell the truth, she was more than a bit anxious about her romance-beside-the-lake walk with Woody. For, more than the Lucy Carver Inn. memories came to her mind that day. There was, of course, his idiotical "rebound guy" line, as well as the "double shift" thing ('God, does he even know I heard that?'). On the other hand, she still wanted him. Badly. She was afraid that one (or both) of them would do something stupid again. She needed some more time to figure out what to do. Just a little more time.

"Great!" Elizabeth squealed. Calvin and her had picked out 'Our Love is Here to Stay' as their wedding song, but they weren't completely sure about it. They'd change their mind a dozen times daily.

After almost an hour of listening all kinds of stuff – from Mendelson to "Aerosmith," the gang decided to make a break.

"So, have you two picked yours yet?" Liz inquired, her big green eyes widening. She was happier than ever, and she wanted everybody else to be as happy. And these two were so cute. She liked Jordan.

"No, not really," Jordan answered.

"But you must have some idea?" Elizabeth insisted.

"I guess Jordan would like something by 'Indigo Girls'," Woody said. "She's a big fan."

Jordan frowned slightly. "Not sure. What about you? Let me guess…hmmmmm…" She pretended she was thinking hard. "'The Kinks'?" she suggested.

He was really thinking hard for more than a couple of moments. "I was thinking… maybe 'Pretenders'… 'I'll Stand by You,' that's a nice tune," he made an understatement.

She was taken aback. His gaze was enigmatical. Was he joking? Or was he just considering their wedding song in all seriousness? She didn't know what to think. And she wasn't sure how she felt about the possibilities.

"Wow," she said, giving him a somewhat puzzled look, "that's a great song. I mean, it's really… But wait a minute! Didn't know you were a fan."

"Well, not really," he said, "but they're not bad." And added, "Although their cover of 'I Go To Sleep' stinks."

"What?" Jordan was outraged. "It does not!"

"Oh, yes, it does," he retorted.

"Does not," she equaled.

"Does -," he started.

"Kids, kids! Behave!" Cal said jokingly. He turned to Jordan. "And what would you choose?"

She was quiet for some time, considering various options.

"'Everytime We Touch'," she finally said.

"What?" Woody looked shocked. "That techno thing?"

She rolled her eyes at him, sighing exasperatedly at the same time. "Please evacuate the keyboard area! Please evacuate the keyboard area!" she told Cal, impersonating Nigel.

A couple of clicks later, she held her hand out to Woody, saying, "You ignorant, ignorant man! Just shut up and dance with me."

"Hey, that's my line," he complained.

Maggie Reilly's mesmerizing voice accompanied by enchanting music filled the room. They slowly floated across the floor. He held her tight, feeling her head leaning slightly onto his shoulder. Although they hadn't danced (well, at least not literally) together for more than two years, it was like they had never stopped. It felt so familiar, so natural. It was like the good old days were truly back. And that they were better than ever. It felt like heaven indeed.

The tender voice continued: "'Cause everytime we touch I feel the static/ And everytime we kiss I reach for the sky./ Can't you hear my heart beat so/ I can't let you go/ Want you in my life…"

That was when it happened. She slightly raised her head, meeting his gaze, in which she saw the reflection of her own desires. Her eyelashes fluttered a few times as she gave him the look which had been long engraved in his memory – the one she gave him in California, after their kiss "for the road." He leaned a bit towards her, expecting his lips to meet hers, which were half-opened in anticipation of a kiss… Then she pulled away.

* * *

"Hey." Bug gave Lily a peck on the cheek, taking the shopping bags from her. "How were my favorite girls doing today?" Then he addressed the little bundle in the carriage, "Did Maddie buy anything nice today?" He cooed, taking her out of the pram.

"Everything's so expensive these days," Lily complained, "but we've found a thing or two."

The two of them had gone shopping before Bug got home from work. Lily needed some time out of the apartment, and Madeleine needed some fresh air. As Lily knew what Bug needed most after last couple of days was rest, they left earlier. She was sure he'd have insisted she wasn't able to go shopping with Maddie alone.

"I've made some dinner," Bug continued.

Lily smiled warmly. "You're such a sweetheart!" And then added cautiously, "I really need to talk to you. About something important."

"Well, of course, Lily," he said assuringly although he was a bit nervous, guessing what the topic would be.

"Let me just put Madeleine to sleep and take a shower."

"No," he retorted. "You go take a shower and I'll take care of Maddie."

She nodded, grateful, thanking God she had someone like Bug and praying everything would go all right.

Half an hour later, when she was back, she first checked upon Madeleine, who was fast asleep in her crib. And so was Bug on the couch, she then found out. She sighed quietly, gently putting an extra blanket on top of him, and headed for the bedroom.


	3. Saturday Night Fever

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Crossing Jordan_.

The same goes for the song _Angel_ _of the Morning_. The version I had in mind is by _The Pretenders_.

**Note:** Thanks very much to **Mexwojo**, **Casey (BugFan4Ever)**,

**rosemarie314**, **eternalgorithm** and **cjloverforever** for their reviews!

Once again, feel free to leave a review. I appreciate them very much, and I'm only reasonably vain. :))

P.S. I know, I know, this isn't longish, this is long. :)

* * *

"You gotta be kidding me." Jordan was incredulous. In fact, she almost choked on the poor excuse for coffee they served at the inn's diner.

However, Woody just shook his head. He just finished retelling the conversation he had had with Cal five minutes ago. His brother had informed him on the new plans for the evening made by Liz's bridesmaids.

"And people say I'm weird." She sighed. "Who would like to play a murder mystery after the rehearsal dinner?"

"Hey, it wasn't my idea." was all he came up with.

"I have a pretty good idea whose idea it _was_." She was annoyed. "She _is_ weird, you know? I can't believe you actually asked her to go to prom with you."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Jordan." He started being defensive. "You're weird." Even before she managed to shoot him a venomous look, he rapidly added, "Some people say. In a good way, though." He tried his luck with the dimples, full aware that the chances of that working in that situation were something like one to five zillions. It didn't work, of course, so he quickly resumed, "It's all part of your charm. And it was part of her charm back then. Not to mention that she was a cheerleader and everything…"

"You see, now I'm disappointed, Farm Boy. Didn't think you were so shallow. Easily impressed with popularity, wanting to be a cheerleader's boyfriend…" Jordan was eager to find out more. They had never really talked much about their school days.

"Well, even if I had been, which I hadn't, I've definitely changed for the better," he retorted.

"Yeah?" She raised her eyebrows. "How do you figure?"

The dimples showed up again. "You're certainly not the Homecoming Queen type, Jordan."

Jordan being Jordan, she had a quick-witted remark ready, but the waitress appeared with her tray. As she put the plates in front of them and turned to leave, a grin crossed Woody's face.

"Now, my friend, this is what I call breakfast. Not leftovers of Chinese, not coffee room donuts. This is the real thing." He was looking enthusiastically at the big fluffy cheese omelette on his plate. "Too bad you didn't take my advice," he said, looking at Jordan, who was playing with her more than slightly burnt toast.

"Now, my friend, hate to tell you what that real thing of yours will do to your arteries." She bravely helped herself to a piece of her toast.

Then she looked across the table at Woody, who apparently wasn't in the least bit concerned about his blood vessels, as he was about to stick his fork in the omelette.

"You know, last week I had that guy who-" she started, but was cut off.

"Stop it right now, Jordan," he said. "For it's not gonna work."

"What's not gonna work?" she asked innocently.

"You're not gonna gross me," he answered matter-of-factly.

"And who said I'd like to do such a thing?" Her brown eyes opened wide in amazement. "Anyway," she continued, "it's tricky in the beginning, the first couple of times. Heart dissection, I mean."

"Does it even look like I'm listening to you?" He still seemed unmoved.

"You first have to open pericardium. But that's not much fun," she hurried, seeing that he was underlining his words by starting to slice the omelette. "Then you cut the pulmonary arteries and veins at the hilum of the lungs, careful not to cut the vagus nerve. Of course, there's no much blood." She was amused to see him hesitate a little before he lifted his fork. "But, oh man, what that LDL does to one's arteries! All those lesions of atherosclerosis… Don't know how to describe them, to me they look most like some kind of brownish slime."

It happened: he put his fork down and pushed the plate towards her. She tried not to smile, but it was difficult. For God's sake, the man was a cop! And after all gruesome things he'd seen over the years, he'd still turn greenish in Autopsy. Not to mention the fact he obviously wasn't able to stand a bit of gross talk over breakfast.

"You know, you could have simply ordered one," he said, his arms folded tightly across his chest. He was sulking.

"Yeah, I know. But this was so much fun," she admitted before adding apologetically, her lips curving into a small smile. "Wanna share?"

He was weighing his options for a second, and then she was rewarded with one of those patented farm-boy smiles, dimples and all.

* * *

"Morning, luv." Nigel was in an extremely good mood. Life was wonderful! He slept well, that new take away place was great, he even managed to catch a rerun of "The X Files." Hell, he arrived to work on time. And to top it all, Kane's tox results were there and they were more than interesting.

"Don't you 'luv' me," Bug grumbled. He wasn't over the moon that day. His back hurt like hell. It seemed that sleeping on the couch hadn't been a great idea after all. And then, of course, there was the issue of the unresolved sexual tension between Lily and him lingering in the air.

"Sorry, Buggles." Nigel chuckled. "A slip of the tongue, that's all. Anyways, while you were sleeping, I got this," he said, handing his friend a sheet of paper which contained the toxicological analysis of Dave Kane's blood.

"What? Taxin?" Dr. Vijay was surprised, to say the least. Taxin poisoning didn't occur often. When it did, it would usually be small children who had eaten yew berries out of curiosity. "There were no berries in his stomach contents."

"Nope," confirmed Nige. "But analyses showed the presence of taxin. Since we had bread and something that resembles jam, too, I'd said somebody had probably put it in his marmalade. The poor bastard didn't know what hit him."

Bug sighed; he wouldn't even dream of telling his friend to show some more respect towards the deceased. For the Brit the word "bastard" wasn't offensive at all. So he only asked, "Does Elliot know?"

"Yeah, I called him fifteen minutes ago," Nigel replied. "I persuaded him to drop by later and tell us how the investigation is going."

* * *

Jordan couldn't see the point in rehearsing your own wedding. Shouldn't that be something… she lacked the right word… well, not spontaneous exactly, but not something rehearsed, either.

'Why the hell would you like to practice getting married?' she had asked herself the question more than a couple of times. She eventually had to shake the thought off, focusing on Lizzie and Cal. They made a beautiful couple indeed. It was not that much that they both were young and pretty, it was more the stars in their eyes whenever they'd see each other. They simply glowed with happiness.

"I still can't grasp why." She heard Woody, who was sitting beside her, whisper.

"Why what?" she was confused.

"I know he's a great guy. That he's always been a great guy deep down inside. Well, very deep inside. But when they started dating… I mean, that was like immediately after that Albanian mob thing. He was still a handful of trouble," he said. "And that's an understatement."

"As you said, he is a great guy and she was able to see that despite everything. She helped him grow up," Jordan explained him his point of view. "And I think things will get even better when they move to LA. Nobody there knows about his past. He'll be able to start over and I think he's ready for that."

"I only hope he'll find a job there." Woody was a bit concerned.

"Oh, he will," she assured him. "There's always something to do in LA."

"Guess you're right," he agreed. "About everything, I mean."

After a second or so, he added somewhat philosophically, "The heart has its own reasons, which reason doesn't know."

Jordan was bewildered. "Did you just…?"

"What? Can't I quote anybody?" He was defensive, then annoyed, "A dumb country cop-"

"No, no, no…" She was a bit embarrassed, feeling that she maybe did overreact. "I just… Well, I just thought old robots and old cars were your cup of tea. Not Blaise Pascal…" When he was still unresponsive, she made an attempt to smooth things out. "Oui, oui,… Le coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connait point." She repeated Pascal's thought about the nature of faith which had been kind of misused over the centuries, but in French.

He had always laughed at his friends who claimed there was nothing sexier than a girl, especially a hot one, speaking French. Now he knew what they had been talking about. To get those thoughts out of his head, he said, "Didn't know you spoke French."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Farm Boy," she retorted with a smile. "But I don't really speak French. This is one of about twenty sentences I still remember from school. I speak Spanish and Italian, though."

"Yeah, I know you speak Spanish." He recalled a fight she once had with detective Cruz, when they both started yelling insults in the detective's mother tongue. Then the green-eyed monster attacked him viciously and he couldn't stop himself from saying, "I guess your Latino boyfriends from LA taught you."

The words had been out of his mouth before he even knew it. Damn, he didn't want to sound bitter or jealous.

"Yeah, but just a little." She smiled. "LA is full of Hispano Americans, ya know? But I did learn Italian from Paolo." She couldn't resist it.

Damn, he _was_ jealous now, he was sorry he'd brought the matter up. He was sorry he'd addressed her. But her smile was so irresistible. One would think he'd built up some kind of tolerance to it over the years, but that was just impossible to do.

"Well, I do know some German." he said hopefully.

* * *

Detective Elliot Chandler was frustrated. That taxin or whatever it was called could have been put into Kane's jar of marmalade anywhere between two months ago, when he'd bought it and Wednesday evening. The jar was full of fingerprints that belonged to Kane and his girlfriend. After all, they had lived together.

What the detective needed was a motive. And he thought he'd found one. But how the hell was he supposed to prove anything? Those were his thoughts as he was stepping out of the elevator in the morgue.

"You gotta help me, guys," he said pleadingly as he entered Trace.

Bug and Nigel looked at him, feeling sorry for him for what they had to say.

"Sorry, mate," said Nigel. "We've got nothing. We've gone through everything once more, but still…"

Chandler sighed exasperatedly. "I knew it." After a couple of moments, he spoke again. "I really have a feeling about this guy, Kane's ex-best friend."

"Ex?" Bug was curious, which wasn't very characteristic of him.

"Yes, well, they're both theater directors. I mean, Kane was one. They fell out a couple of months ago when Boston Theater chose Kane to direct 'The Mousetrap.' It seems that Greene suspected foul play," the detective explained.

"That could be a motive," the entomologist agreed.

They both turned to Nigel, whose jaw suddenly dropped.

"Sweet Nancy!" he exclaimed, and ran to his computer.

Both Bug's and Chandler's curiosity was stirred, and they hurried after the criminologist.

"Agatha Christie." As always, Nigel was eager to explain his conclusions. "I knew it was too familiar. You see, in one of her books, a guy is killed with taxin in his marmalade. Yes… that's it, I knew it. 'A Pocket Full Of Rye.'"

"Well, someone who wanted badly to direct 'The Mousetrap' would

certainly know that." Elliot was excited about this new moment, but he knew it wasn't really much.

"And it could serve as some kind of weird poetic justice." Bug nodded.

"I think I'll go and talk to Mr. Greene one more time," the detective concluded.

* * *

Jordan was trying hard to suppress a yawn. They were playing a murder mystery, courtesy of Mary Alice and Jessica, Liz's other bridesmaid. Everybody but Cal, Woody and herself seemed to have a lot of fun. Elizabeth was at least trying to enjoy the lame game. As she sipped her energy drink, Jordan caught Woody's worried look. She smiled at him reassuringly. He could be such a sweetheart sometimes, but she didn't need anyone babying her. After all, that was her first energy drink that night. Coffee didn't count; she was almost resistant to coffee. And she really needed something to boost her energy or she wouldn't be able to pull through such a boring evening. She'd gladly drink a beer or two, though. The only problem was that this was a non-alcohol party.

She glanced at her watch. It was almost ten. 'Good,' she thought. "Just an hour more or even less and I'll be in the shower, getting ready for a long, long sleep. If I'm able to fall asleep after this stuff, that is."

Woody sat beside her. "Hey, you're not even trying," he whispered into her ear, causing shivers down her spine and, consequently, a muttered 'damn' from her lips.

She snorted. "Like you do."

"Well, I have to admit this doesn't come even close to the Cavanaugh family murder mysteries," he said in reply.

"You're damn right about that," she said, and her eyes darkened for a moment as she remembered her dad. 'At least I've talked to him recently,' she thought, and then shrugged the thought off. She didn't need to go there right now.

"The only reason we're stuck here," she continued, "is the fact that _she_ hopes to get cast as an ME in that movie she was babbling about yesterday. So I'm like some lab animal here."

She was really gorgeous when she got angry. He couldn't help the thought. "Yeah, I've figured that out." He nodded. "But, on the bright side, your role is practically over. And, thank God, Ray and not yours truly is the detective."

She noticed a piece of paper in his hand. "So, what you've got?" She managed to smile.

"Wanna compare notes?" he asked. "'Kay, I say it's the hospital janitor, but the nephew had ordered it. And I bet on the deadly injection of air into her blood stream."

"Oh, you're good," she said, handing him her piece of paper. "It's the radial artery, to be precise, but never mind. I hoped you'd get MO wrong since this sloppy ME hadn't reached a conclusion -"

Suddenly, she felt strange, lightheaded. In an instant, the room started spinning around. It stopped almost immediately, but it was enough to scare her.

"Jordan?" He frowned, worried. "You okay?"

Not looking at him, she nodded. She knew it was totally unconvincing. He didn't buy it. He lifted her chin, but her eyes were still downcast. "Tell me the truth, Jordan. Please," he encouraged her in a soft voice.

Her eyelashes fluttered in an attempt to get rid of the tears that threatened to shed.

"It's nothing, really." She tried to smile. "I-I just felt dizzy for a moment."

He hugged her. It took him a lot of strength to employ his best carefree voice. "You didn't really eat and sleep much these days," he said. "It's just fatigue."

But they both knew that the other one was thinking the same: meningioma. And they both silently prayed they were wrong.

"C'mon, I'm getting you out of here," he told her decisively.

* * *

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way." detective Chandler was tired, but he was by no means giving up. "It's up to you, Mr. Greene."

He wanted to punch that arrogant son of a bitch right in that pale face of his. However, he reminded himself that that smugness of his was something the police could benefit from. For, being so conceited, Greene didn't want a lawyer. He boasted a couple of trimesters at a law school.

Just as Elliot was contemplating his next words, detective Santana entered the room. As she whispered something to Elliot, Chandler's face grew grimmer and grimmer.

"You just sit there," he addressed Greene, "and think wisely how you're gonna use that call. Personally, I'd suggest you call a good lawyer."

"Hey, guys, what's up? Still at work, huh?" Elliot Chandler entered Trace for the third time that day.

"We were just leaving," Bug replied.

"Any luck with our friend, Mr. Greene?" Nigel asked eagerly.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call him a friend," the detective retorted. "Anyway, I came round to tell you I was lucky after all. The girl, Maria Jones, was cheating on Kane with Greene. Our guy enticed her to do it – kill Kane, that is – and he planned that entire charade with the shooting so that she be off the list of possible suspects."

"But why did he confess?" Bug was incredulous. "He could have gotten away with it."

Chandler nodded reluctantly. "It wasn't him. It was the girl. Apparently, Greene was planning to go to Europe on business. For a long, long time. And he had no intention of bringing our beautiful Maria with him. She accidentally found out about it and came to us. When Santana was questioning her, she was no more than a bundle of nerves. She'll probably go to a sanatorium or something," he explained.

"But what's with Greene?" inquired Nigel. "There is no proof against him except her statement and if she's insane-"

"There are his love letters to her," Chandler answered his question. "She was clever or foolish enough to save them."

He turned to leave. "Good night, guys."

"Wait," Nigel said, sounding quite festive. "This needs celebrating. Anybody for eat-all-you-can at 'Beef & Brew'?"

"Sounds like a good idea!" The detective surprised even himself with that answer.

"I really need to go home, Nige. Some other time," the entomologist replied, pretending not to see his friend pulling a long face.

* * *

When Bug got home, which was pretty late, Lily was still up. She was waiting for him.

"Hey," he said, placing a light kiss on her cheek. "Thought you'd already be asleep."

She slowly shook her head. "I hope you're not too tired 'cause I really need to talk to you."

He was about to give in to temptation and tell her he was tired like a dog and go to sleep, but his reason told him there's no point in trying to avoid what was inevitable. Therefore, he just nodded and sat by her side.

"You see, Bug," she started in a sad voice, "I don't think this is working. I think we both need to decide…"

He didn't hear anything that followed, for there was a little voice in his head (which bore a funny resemblance to that one from the famous cartoon, he mused afterwards) which was practically screaming, "Kiss the girl!" So Bug obeyed. He pulled Lily, who was in the middle of her carefully prepared speech, into a long-awaited kiss that put an end to all their fears and doubts.

* * *

"Now, that one isn't funny even to me any more." Woody looked at Jordan suspiciously.

Something weird was happening. As they walked from Jessica's house to the inn (which was about a quarter of mile away), she laughed almost hysterically at his jokes she usually despised as corny.

"What's going on, Jordan?" He was puzzled.

"Oh, nothing!" she replied as they were climbing the stairs to their room. "I just feel good, so full of energy!"

"Oh yeah?" he teased. "Any chance you OD'd on that energy drink of yours?" he asked as he closed the door.

What followed definitely added to his bewilderment. Was the Moon in Uranus or something? For Jordan turned round to face him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and - oh God – she didn't just brush his lips against his, but she actually kissed him. Which was kind of strange after her pulling away (which he was trying to sweep under the carpet, by the way) the previous day. He said the words before realizing what he was uttering:

"Jordan, stop. Please." He started removing her arms from around his neck.

'What's wrong with me?' the voice in his brain yelled. 'The woman I love is french kissing me and I tell her to stop!?'

But he knew the answer. It had never been easy with Jordan. God knew why she was doing that. She may regret it the next day, especially keeping in mind how weird she'd been acting for the last fifteen minutes. He wanted her to be able to look herself in the mirror the following morning. And he wanted the same for himself. He was just trying to be reasonable.

As for Jordan, she did feel a bit weird, but she knew exactly what she was doing.

'Meningioma or not meningioma, too much time has been wasted. And I'm not waiting a minute longer.' Her train of thought was discontinued for a couple of moments. 'If he didn't feel anything, he wouldn't have come that morning with all that talk about the Smith-Raleigh case. He only wanted to be sure I was coming… and, um… he wouldn't have tried to kiss me yesterday….'

She heard him talk, and felt her arms being removed from his neck. But she was determinate. If he loved her, well, there would be plenty of time to talk the following morning. If he didn't, well, she still wanted him and she wouldn't be ashamed or feeling fooled for making love to him. She wasn't thinking that rationally exactly. Her mind was currently a whirlpool. Beside myriad other things, the lyrics of an old song were running through her brain: "There'll be no strings to bind your hands, / not if my love can't bind your heart. / And there's no need to take a stand / For it was I who chose to start. / I see no reason to take me home, / I'm old enough to face the dawn…"

"Don't you want me?" She hugged him again before he was able to walk away. She asked the question knowing full well he did.

"Jordan, I – I… we shouldn't." was all he managed to say as he felt her nearness overwhelming him. His voice was gruff.

"That's not what I asked," she said in a silky, seductive tone.

In the dim light which was coming from the outside, he was able to see her, and he felt as if he was having a deja-vu. She was just giving him

her you-want-me-to-play-the-boy look, which – needless to say – had the exactly same effect as the last time she used it.

His arms clasped around her as his lips found hers, soft and tasty. As his lips then wandered along her jaw line, she started unbuttoning his shirt. His lips relishing the satin-like skin of her neck, their breathing was becoming shallower and shallower. When his kisses found the soft spot on her throat, she moaned slightly, and he cursed himself for what he was about to do.

For, he had finally realized what was wrong. She was hotter than hell. And not only metaphorically (which she definitely was). He voiced his thoughts. "You're hotter than hell." Then he started pulling away slowly.

"Mhmmm, thank you." She chuckled, reaching for his belt buckle.

"No, Jordan, I mean yes, but…" He took her hands into his. "I mean, you're burning."

"Geez." She rolled her eyes at him. "Aren't you overrating yourself a bit, Farm Boy?" she said jokingly.

Then it hit her; the seriousness of his voice reached her. He turned on the light.

"We have to take your temperature," he said.

She looked at him and sighed. All the desire was gone from his eyes, and they were now filled with concern.

"Wait a minute." She waved her hand. "We already know my temperature's high, so we might as well list other symptoms before measuring it. I mean, it's not like we have a thermometer here anyway."

It was one of the rare moments of his life when he wasn't able to say, "I've got it all covered." It seemed he wasn't a perfect boy scout after all. He sighed, and started listing the symptoms or, more precisely, that what looked like symptoms to him. "Dizziness, hysteria (pardon me), fever." It was the best he could do.

"Discontinued trail of thought," she continued, and then stopped, musing over everything she'd done that day. She found it really hard to focus. It took her a couple of minutes, but she finally realized. "I'll be damned." She started chuckling.

He just looked at her, puzzled.

"Ever thought of becoming an MD?" she asked him. He was still clueless, so she resumed, "You were right. I did OD. On caffeine."

"You can actually do that?" Woody's confusion was deepening by the second.

"Oh, yes, you can." She laughed, not fully grasping why. "I'll explain it to you in the morning. I'm not really sure I can do it right now."

"But what should I do?" He was starting to panic. "What medications do you need? I'm calling 911," he declared.

"Don't be silly," she reassured him. "It's not that bad or I wouldn't be talking to you, much less I'd be able to make a diagnosis. Just open the window and I'll sit by it. Meanwhile, you go to the pharmacy and get some activated charcoal."

"Activated charcoal," he murmured. "Ok. But are you sure you can stay here on your own?"

"Sure." She smiled at him. "Just hurry up."

"I'll be back in a few," he said, opening the window. Then he gave her a worried look and hurried out of the room.

Jordan threw herself onto her bed, not sure whether she felt more like laughing or crying. Her own stupidity and recklessness had just robbed her of the steamiest night since… hell, since Littleton Village.

Those were her last thoughts before she broke into a series of uncontrollable hysterical chuckles.


	4. Angels of a Sunday Morning

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Crossing Jordan_.

**Note:** Last time I didn't leave a link to _Angel of the Morning_, so here it is:

**youtube(dot)com/watch?vbsU9iLZuA8**.

The video is dedicated to some soap opera (_Days of Our Lives_, I think), but it's the only place I've found the song.

**Casey (BugFan4Ever)**, **Mexwojo**, **Miss Katie M**, **xOlly** and **Buzzy-B-**, thanks for the reviews! You know I really like getting feedback, guys. **stokesandmesserluver** and **distorted realities**, I'm glad you liked it!

* * *

It was dawn when Bug opened his eyes. He immediately became aware of two things:

a. he didn't know where he was,

b. his right arm felt numb.

However, both of these mysteries were quickly resolved. Squinting in the dim light, he realized he was in his own bedroom. Then he looked to the right to find the reason of the lack of feeling in his arm. In a heartbeat, he thought it was a mirage. It indeed felt surreal. He had been wanting that for so long that he didn't know when he had started. And now he had it. There was Lily, asleep, his right arm wrapped around her, her head less than an inch from his, so he could clearly smell and enjoy the scent of her flowery shampoo. Over the moon, he smiled broadly. In fact, he couldn't stop smiling. Some ten minutes later, when Lily started fidgeting slightly and her warm blue eyes fluttered open, he still had the same ear-to-ear grin. Still sleepy, she smiled back. She leaned towards him and brushed her lips against his, murmuring, "Sleep, it's still early."

With that she rolled over, closing her eyes again. Vaguely remembering that she'd told him the other day that Madeleine would be spending the weekend with Jeffrey and his mother, Bug concurred. He snuggled against her, his front to her back, and fell back to dreamless sleep. He no longer needed dreams anyway.

* * *

A ray of sunshine on her face woke Jordan up. Relishing the warmth on her skin, she postponed opening her eyes for another minute. Then she gingerly lifted her eyelashes just a bit and cast a sideway glance to the left, expecting to see Woody's ruffled hair. When all she saw was the whiteness of his pillow, she opened her eyes completely, somewhat disappointed. For yesterday morning there'd been a few moments before the alarm clock went off which she truly enjoyed. He was half-smiling in his sleep, his hair went in all directions - he simply looked adorably boyish. All the traces last couple of years had left on him, all those little lines and all the toughness being gone, he looked a lot like the happy-go-lucky farm boy she'd met a long time ago. Not that she minded his change. He had grown up and so had she. They'd both changed for the better. But sometimes she just missed the old days, missed them terribly, unexplainably and, probably, irrationally.

She sat up in her bed, looking around the room. The bathroom door caught her attention – it was open and the room was dark. Where was he? She glanced around, looking for a message, but found none. Suddenly and inexplicably, she felt forlorn. Where and, most importantly why, would he go so early in the morning? And without even telling her.

"Oh, stop it! Why is he bound to tell you where he's going?" she told to herself, but her heart fell none the less. "Because we're friends," she defended herself from the little voice. "Exactly my point!" the voice was triumphant.

Jordan only shrugged, trying to shake the thought off, and closed her eyes in an attempt to get some more sleep. She wasn't in the mood for introspection. She wasn't often in that mood anyway and the fact that she had hardly slept a wink the previous night didn't actually help. She had tried to sleep, but spent the night mostly tossing and turning in some dream-like state. She vaguely remembered seeing Woody sitting on his bed and staring anxiously at her whenever she opened her eyes. She also recalled wanting to tell him she was ok and not being able to do so.

'How stupid of me to drink all that. I must have frightened him,' she thought. 'And we could have…' she actually blushed a little. She was by no means shy, but it bothered her that she couldn't remember everything from last night. She remembered bits and pieces – mainly the pleasant pressure of his lips traveling down her neck to her collar bone and her strangely nervous fingers unbuttoning his shirt. Her lips curled into a small smile as she closed her eyes again so that she could relive the memory. She sighed in frustration; it had been a promising evening.

'Would he leave this morning without saying a thing even if we'd slept together?' She was mad at herself for thinking about such things. She had never been a romantic soul seeing the world through her pink sunglasses. She had never had equaled sex with love. She'd had her fair share of one night stands and she'd never look back. But, somehow, the thought that last night (had it ended where she intended) could mean no more than a fling to Woody was more than upsetting. She remembered the song that was playing in her mind yesterday.

'_And if we were victims of the night, I won't be blinded by the light._ Dammit, when the hell did I stop being Ruby Tuesday and turned into Angel of the Morning?' She snorted.

She was grateful that the sound of the door opening interrupted her attempt at introspection. She was even more grateful when she saw what Woody was carrying.

"Good morning." He smiled. "I'd have been back earlier, but it seems they have a strange custom of serving breakfast only till nine-thirty on Sundays," he said as he was closing the door. "But… a sweetheart from the fifth grade was able to get us some raspberry cheesecake." He grinned while placing the tray on the bed, beside her.

"Oh, c'mon, don't forget that I actually saw your elementary school pictures the other day!" She laughed, moving to make some room for him.

"I have no idea what you're trying to imply, Jordan." He pretended to be hurt by her insinuations. "But if you're by any chance aiming at my chubbiness at the time, I must tell you it hurts."

"Oh, poor baby," she said in a mock-sympathetic tone, helping herself to a raspberry from the top of her piece of cake.

"Ok, ok, it was just a crush," he muttered.

"How are you, Jordan?" His eyes darkened a little. She knew that look too well. After all, over the years, he'd been worried about her only a zillion times. "You okay?" he repeated.

She smiled gently. "I'm just fine. Don't worry. It wasn't anything really serious," she said, and then quickly added, "but I guess it must have looked pretty scary. Hope I didn't frighten you."

"I-I was afraid," he admitted, "because I didn't know what to do. I hate being helpless like that. Had something gone wrong, I wouldn't have been able to do anything. I wouldn't have known what to do. I wouldn't be able to help you, to save you, Jordan," his voice was gruff. The words came out unexpectedly, even to him.

Jordan gulped. She knew he wasn't talking about last night, or at least not only about it. She had finally deciphered the 'double shift' comment in all certainty. Her brown eyes were filled with tenderness and sparkled with suppressed tears when she said softly, "Hey, I'm fine. And you did help me." She placed a soothing hand on his cheek.

His hand covered hers. His eyes met hers and he read her wish in those cognac-colored depths. He knew that she wanted him to hold her just as much as he did. He leaned a bit towards her. At the same moment, a whole pack of dogs, as it seemed, started barking furiously in the street, making Jordan jump. She laughed nervously. They both knew the moment had been ruined.

"Well, we'd better start getting ready for the wedding," she said.

He only nodded, trying to get his eyes off her. He'd seen his share of women in satin and lace, but Jordan in her baggy spaghetti-strapped white cotton nightie was the hottest thing he'd seen. "Except Jordan without even that on." a thought came and he felt the urge to slap himself.

* * *

Nigel was proud of himself. He didn't come on time – he came earlier. Much earlier as it turned out – because the flight from New York was late. Just as he was getting tired of the odd looks passersby were giving him because of his (in their opinion) odd appearance, Kate's plane landed. He was slightly anxious. Heck, he was anxious. What did she think about his calling her the previous evening and asking her whether she needed a ride from the airport? He was certain it hadn't exactly been the experience of his life.

The phone had been ringing for so long that he was on the verge of giving up. Then she picked up. He could barely hear her as the noise was terrible.

"Hi, Kate, it's Nigel." He was wondering why the hell he had called her. 'And she is probably doing the same,' he thought.

"Oh, hi," She was surprised.

Usually, he'd explain elaborately why he was calling and before that he'd be asking all sorts of questions – where his listener was and why, how he or she was doing etc. However, this time he found the noise quite a convenient excuse.

"Listen, Kate, I can hardly hear you," he started, "I'm calling 'cause I've been wondering whether you'll need a ride tomorrow."

There was a short pause as Kate was digesting what had been said. She couldn't pretend she wasn't aware of the reason he'd called. She couldn't pretend she wasn't in the least bit glad, either.

"Sure," she said and then gave him the details of her flight.

"Okay, great then." Nigel was relieved. "I'll see ya tomorrow!"

Well, if it hadn't been the best, it hadn't exactly been the worst experience of his life, either. She hadn't smirked, she hadn't made a single snide remark. As a matter of fact, she had been nice. That had to be a good sign.

'All right, she sounded surprised, but not in a bad way,' he was encouraging himself.

And now there they were – at Logan, Nigel carrying Kate's suitcase and she her beloved Binky's transporter. All they'd said to each other was a 'hi.' Nige tried to break the ice:

"So, how's New York?" he asked enthusiastically.

"Far more interesting than Boston," Kate replied.

They didn't spoke again until they reached the car. This time it was a nice green ford.

"This one is smaller, so-" the Brit started explaining, but stopped in the middle of the sentence, intrigued by Binky's whining. "Oh, it seems that the li'l fella wants out!"

After all her 'hushes' failed miserably, the annoyed Dr. Switzer – once they were in the car – set her precious little terrier free. The furball jumped right at Nigel, sniffing him frantically.

"Oh, it seems I'm really growing on him." Nige grinned, petting Binky's head.

Kate didn't say anything; she only raised an eyebrow in suspicion. The next moment, her pet jumped in her lap, holding a juicy piece of bacon that he retrieved from Dr. Townsend's pocket. Silently, Nigel pulled off, focusing hard on the road in front of him. For a couple of moments, nothing but Dandie Dinmont terrier's munching could be heard. Then Kate broke the silence. "Bacon can't buy you love," she pointed out. "But maybe some nice kidneys can."

* * *

Jordan felt light-hearted. If her mind wasn't exactly blank, she wasn't thinking of anything in particular, either. Her thoughts were wandering in all directions, never ceasing at one point. Life was good. The sun was shining, the air was reasonably warm, the wine was excellent, the band exquisite. In a word, everything at Lizzie and Cal's wedding reception was perfect and everybody seemed to be happy. She was contented, to say the least. Her chin was resting on Woody's shoulder, her eyes were closed most of the time as she felt comfortable and peaceful in his arms while they danced to one oldie after another.

"I could swear you dozed off two or three songs ago," he whispered when Jordan shifted a bit.

"Mhmmm" being the only answer he got, he smiled.

He loved his talkative, sarcastic, feisty, buttons pushing, hard to handle Jordan, but dealing with this more gentle, less cautious, not ready-and-willing-to-run-any-moment Jordan, who was tranquil in his arms, giving no signs of pulling away in near future, was nice for a change. He pulled her a little closer though one would think it was an impossible thing to do as there didn't seem to be any space left between the two of them.

Over her shoulder, he glanced at other couples on the dance floor. Spotting Annie, who was beautiful in her blue dress, and Ray, he smiled. Sheriff Cody's refusal of his marriage proposal to his daughter seemed to be the best thing that had ever happened to Woody. Had he stayed in Kewaunee and married Annie, he'd probably never have gotten hit in the face with a trashcan, given away his ticket to "The Kinks" concert he had been waiting for ages, discovered decomposed bodies in a long abandoned house, shot a man off the rooftop, gone on a cross-country wild goose chase, given all his money to bail the woman he loved from the LA jail, gritted his teeth innumerous times at the very same woman disobeying his "stay in the car." He wouldn't know how unhappy he was. What he had felt for Annie was love. He had cared for her deeply. But compared to the myriad feelings only a few minutes with Jordan could evoke in him, to that bittersweet emotion when he'd recall every single moment they'd spent together, to not knowing whether to kiss her or kill her each time she'd waltz safe and sound from another of her hare-brained schemes, what he had once felt for Annie Cody was nothing.

During those six years since he first met Jordan in that bank lobby, he grew to believe that indeed there was one perfect person for everybody. And his was Jordan. Although their relationship had never been even close to perfection, although in the darkest hours of their bizarre dance he had been infatuated with other women, a part of him was always perfectly aware that he would never be able to escape the spell that the cynical, angry, difficult and pushy (description courtesy of Det. Elliot Chandler), but at the same time caring, vulnerable, righteous and always willing to save the underdog, dark-haired ME had unintentionally put on him. And he didn't really want to escape it since only a couple of moments like these on the dance floor were easily able to erase the days of frustration with her previous actions. For no matter how miserable Jordan could make him feel from time to time, she was the only one who could make him feel over the moon with just one word, one smile or touch.

Jordan didn't mind being pulled even closer. In fact, she liked it. She felt cozy, comfortable, with Woody. After all, she'd known him for years. He was her best friend (as Garret was her bestest girlfriend). But her heart still fluttered when he was around. And it fluttered a lot. He was still infuriating from time to time, driving her out of her mind with his overprotectiveness, Wisconsinisms and corny jokes. At the same time, he was always there for her, he could make her laugh and he wore that dangerously hot cologne. Not to mention the fact that when he held her like he did now, it just felt right.

She closed her eyes again, reveling the sun on her face, the slow and sexy jazz tune the band was playing, the well-known scent of Woody's cologne and the light kiss he placed on her hair. A loud, rough, slightly drunken voice startled her.

"You're gonna smother that poor girl, Woodrow." An obese elderly man was leering at her. "Can I have this dance, little lady?" he held out his hand.

Jordan remained silent, struggling not to express her contempt and thus make an incident.

"I don't think it's a good idea right now, uncle Herb," Woody said. "My fiancée," he accentuated the words, "was just saying she couldn't bear this heat any longer. She needs some rest."

The man just waved his hand.

"Doesn't she have a tongue?" He practically pulled Jordan toward him. "Don't worry, kiddo, just one small dance," he addressed the outraged Woody who would have already punched him if it hadn't been for Jordan's grin – reassuring and wicked at the same time.

Some twenty seconds later he had the pleasure of watching Herb's sweaty hand leaving Jordan's waist and his eyes involuntarily filling with tears.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, uncle Herb!" Jordan covered her mouth to conceal her grin. It seemed that, inexplicably, in the passion of the dance the old man's foot got stubbed with her high heel.

Woody was about to congratulate her on her precision when Ray and his wife appeared next to them.

"We were wondering if you two'd wanna trade partners." Annie smiled.

Although the real answer was "no," they agreed. As Woody danced with his former fiancée, they were chit-chatting about the old times. When the song was over, he was relieved that a guy asked Annie for the next dance. He looked round for Jordan, but by that time she had disappeared in the crowd. He caught a glimpse of her dancing with some good-looking guy.

* * *

Lily stood in the doorway, smiling at Bug and Maddie. He was so sweet cooing at her, trying to make her smile.

"He is the best father Madeleine could ask for," she thought. She sighed remembering Jeffrey who seemed not to be able to spend even a weekend with his daughter. This time, apparently his mother had the flu and he was afraid Maddie could get it. "As if he couldn't have brought her to his new flat." She was surprised to learn she actually was a bit disappointed when he appeared carrying the baby girl. She had made some evening plans for Bug and herself.

But now, watching the two of them, she was truly glad their daughter was home. She joined them.

"I'm glad Jeffrey brought Maddie home." Bug voiced her thoughts.

"Me too." She nodded, and hugged him.

They both knew that 'home' didn't mean the apartment. It meant the place where she belonged. And she belonged with them. For the three of them were a family.

* * *

Cal found him sitting at the table with a bottle of hennessy in front of him.

"Damn waiters," he commented. "We've told them not to give bottles to guests under any circumstances. And they had to give you the most expensive cognac."

"Don't worry," his brother retorted. "I won't drink all of it."

"You just like the color, huh?" Cal nodded knowingly.

Woody was silent.

"Since I don't sleep in a bunk bed any more," Cal started after some time, "let me give you a piece of love advice this time."

"I'm all ears, genius." His brother made the last word sound like 'knucklehead.'

Cal continued nevertheless. "Just tell her," he said. When Woody snorted, he resumed, "Look, I don't know everything that happened between you two, but I'm not blind. Although even a blind man would be able to see it with the two of you. She loves you. You love her. You're both confused and insecure. You're acting like schoolkids. And I think it's high time you were a man and told her how you feel."

"Geez, thank you, Dr. Love." Woody was sarcastic although he had to admit his brother might have a point.

"Be sarcastic if you want. It's easier that way, but I think that Jordan-" started Calvin.

"You think that Jordan what?" inquired Jordan. They didn't see her coming.

"Looks wonderful today." Cal grinned, standing up.

Not only Woody, but everybody at the reception would definitely agree with him. She was wearing a spaghetti-strapped empire dress that reached just above her knees. Its sangria color suited her perfectly. A triple-row pearl necklace was sparkling around her neck. Her hair was put in a neat and sweet sock bun.

"Thanks, Cal. I'll pretend I believe that that's what you were saying." She smiled.

He only smiled back before he walked away.

"I've been looking for you," she said sitting next to Woody.

"Yeah," was all he said.

She frowned. "Woody, I'm sorry."

"Why? It's not like you-" He was cut off.

"No, no," she quickly started, "I'm not talking about dancing with other guys." She rolled her eyes. "I've been thinking and… I-I'm sorry for dragging you into all my crazy schemes and complicating your life-" Now she was cut off.

"Where did that come from?" He was genuinely surprised.

"Well, um, I was watching all these people and…" Suddenly she felt very stupid, not knowing how to continue. "They all seem to lead normal, not messed up lives… and I think you, well, you could… I mean, if it hadn't been for my obsessions and all that jazz," she forced herself to finish even if it was pretty inarticulate. 'Why don't you just go and kill yourself, Jordan. You sounded like a conceited lunatic,' she thought to herself.

"Oh, just get over yourself, Jordan!" His tone was joking, but his eyes darkened. Not that she was able to see that – her eyes were downcast. "Now, seriously, Jordan, get over yourself. Nothing is your fault. I mean, yes, you _are_ complicated and everything, but… I've always had a choice." These last words came out as a little more than a whisper.

She looked at him. They both knew what was implied. He had chosen her, her hare-brained plans, wild goose chases and the ever-present possibility of her running away over a house in the burbs, white picket fence and a nice ever-present wife.

They met halfway. The kiss was maybe not that passionate as the ones from the previous evening, but it was… how to describe the indescribable? If you had asked them about that kiss, they'd both have used a single word: perfect.

What followed wasn't, though. His cell phone started ringing, making them both sigh. Over the years, too many moments were ruined by one or another of their cell phones. After many 'yes, sir's, Woody turned to her. She recognized his professional look.

"I have to go back to Boston. Now," he said. "It seems that the Slaughterer is back."

* * *

"I still don't understand why I can't come with you." Jordan was annoyed.

"Because: a) it's not your case, so they don't need you in Boston; b) you didn't sleep last night and you don't need an hour and a half drive to Oshkosh and a four-hour flight tonight, especially when you're working tomorrow afternoon," he said, zipping his suitcase.

Ready to go, he turned to her. "Jordan, I didn't arrange this call to avoid you. Okay, maybe I did arrange this call to avoid you," he echoed her speech from LA. She flashed a lopsided smile. He kissed her on the forehead.

'We're obviously at 'let's take it slow' again,' she thought, not exactly cheerful.

"I'll see you at home," he said. Although he was leaving the town where he grew up, he had known for a long time that his home was Boston. Where his family, his morgue family, was. Most importantly, where Jordan was.

"Take care," she whispered.

He closed the door behind him, but then he just stood there in the corridor, indecisive. He wanted to go back in, not knowing what he would say or do. He only knew he needed to be with her just a little longer, to hold her, to give her a proper goodbye kiss. But in the end he shook his head.

'Not now,' he thought. 'But I'll tell her soon. I'll tell her. One of these days.'

Her hand was already on the door knob when her reason prevailed. She rested her forehead against the door, sighing. She managed to resist the urge to go after him and tell him: "Let's not take it slow." or something like that. Maybe even _the words_. In the end, she'd listened to her reason. It wouldn't make sense. Not now.

'But I'll tell him,' she vowed silently. 'I'll tell him. One of these days.'

* * *

**A final note: **Ok, this story is now officially finished! I must admit it's a far cry from my outline (which I messed up as early as chapter 1 :)). I kinda rushed the part with the murder because I found it hard to write about the events at the precinct and because I don't know much about all those gadgets Nigel uses. All medical facts in the story should be correct, though. :))

One more thing: since this unexpectedly had much more romance than crime, I've changed the genre into general/romance. I planned to write more about Lily and Bug, but I somehow found myself writing about Jordan and Woody 90 percent of the time. Sorry!

Anyway, I promise a better mystery next time (if there's one). Thanks for reading and, of course, feel free to leave a review!


End file.
